


Mice in Tuxedos

by deedeeinfj



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:22:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deedeeinfj/pseuds/deedeeinfj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing moment in D.C.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mice in Tuxedos

Leslie doesn't say anything during the short taxi ride to Ben's apartment, and he isn't surprised. She has to be feeling exhausted and overwhelmed. But there's something more behind her silence. Glancing at the back of her head as she watches the city lights through the dirty cab window, he hopes that she'll tell him. He slides his hand over the seat, curls his fingers around hers, and smiles at her when she turns to look at him. Her answering smile isn't one of the broad and sunlit real ones, but she does turn her hand palm-up to clasp his.

When they reach his apartment, she goes into the tiled bathroom with her overnight bag while Ben treads into the bedroom and strips down to his boxers and undershirt. He hangs his suit and turns down the bed before settling in with his padfolio. He lays it aside as soon as the bathroom door opens. Leslie clicks off the bathroom light, and the loud whirr of the overhead fan dies, leaving behind an abrupt but not unwelcome quiet. Ben switches on the bedside lamp.

Leslie, wearing an old t-shirt and loose pajama bottoms, goes to him instead of sliding into her side of the bed. She climbs over him, straddles his lap, and burrows her head into his chest.

"Hi," he says, slipping one hand up into her hair and stroking her scalp with his fingertips.

"I want you to cuddle me. Hard."

He presses his nose against her hair and smiles. "I can do that," he says with a nod.

He shifts their bodies so that they're laying side by side, his left arm cradling her head against his shoulder while his right holds her waist. She slides one of her legs between his. Her left arm is curled up between them, and she circles her fingers idly on his chest. Ben closes his eyes and savors this closeness, which he has missed more than anything else.

After several minutes, he says quietly, "I love you."

She responds by pressing her leg closer to his. She'll talk to him; he knows she will. So he doesn't mind the silence that warmly covers them while he waits.

It actually takes less time than he thought it would.

"I didn't get the meeting at the Interior," she says. Her voice is so muffled, he can barely make out what she said.

"What happened?"

"Guy was out. Is out all week. So I had to leave my presentation in this huge pile of other presentations, and his assistant asked me which Pawnee I'm from because apparently there's like a million Pawnees, and I felt… Ugh. I felt like an ant with delusions of grandeur." She disentangles herself from him and rolls onto her back. "I'm sorry I'm whining. Tonight was supposed to be about having all kinds of sex."

"Didn't you have an appoint--"

"And I'm so embarrassed to admit this part, but that room full of smart, beautiful power players! I felt like a mouse. Not even a mouse in a tuxedo. Just a mouse in… overalls."

"Hey," he says, turning her face towards his, "those women wish they could have a  _tenth_  of your passion and creativity and optimism. Being from a small place doesn't make you a small person."

She smiles – a little smile, but a genuine one – and nestles herself back against him. He slips his free hand under her t-shirt and rubs his hand over her back in the way he knows she likes. If her hum of satisfaction is any indication, it's doing the trick.

"You know what else I thought about today?" she asks.

"Hmmm?"

"I'm really proud of you." Her hand is under his t-shirt, too, and she trails her fingers down his lower back until they're nudging under the waistband of his boxers, pressing into his ass. "In that room full of important people, you looked like you belonged. You were so poised." She inches her thigh up between his. "And well-spoken."

He chuckles. "I wasn't at first, believe me."

"Would you think I'm a terrible person if I just want to cuddle and make out? I'm so tired, and I think my mojo has been knocked out of me."

"Well, that last part is impossible, and I could never think you're a terrible person. Not even when you prostituted your best friend to get Parks funding." She gives him a full-throated laugh, and he grins. "The cuddling and making out sounds great. That's the part we can't do long-distance, right?"

"Mmmhmm," she sighs into his neck.

He rolls them slightly and hovers over her, brushing their noses together before he kisses her. Tired as she is, she's never been half-hearted about kissing, so it's deep and insistent and wonderful. Skype sex is exciting and fun, and maybe he's a nerd for thinking this, but the kissing and the holding really are the parts that leave the biggest hole when they can't be together. He hadn't said it just to make her feel better. She gasps and sighs when he cups her breast, and she drapes one leg over his hip, pulling his lower body closer to hers.

"Tell me if it's too much," she whispers into his hair as he kisses her neck, "since we're not… I don't want you to be… not fair to… oh, god…"

Her t-shirt is pooled up above her breasts now, and he lets his lips and tongue show her how much he missed them. "I'm a grown-up," he mumbles as his mouth explores her skin. "We can do as much or as little as you want." He lifts his head so his eyes can meet hers. "Let me go down on you."

She turns away. "Ben…"

"You don't have to feel bad, and you don't have to do anything, okay? I just want to do this for you. If you come, then great. If you fall asleep, I don't even care."

She looks back at him and smiles. "You are such a smart and wiry temptation, but it's more than being tired. I can't explain it. I'm not…" She cringes. "I'm not in the mood. Do you know what I mean?"

She guides his hand down her belly and under her pajamas and panties. For a moment, he's confused, but then he realizes that her skin, though warm and soft as always, isn't wet with her body's usual response to him.

"Okay," he says. He doesn't really know what else he  _can_  say. He suddenly feels very awkward about his erection, which is pressed into her thigh.

"Please just keep holding me and kissing me. I've missed you like crazy, and it feels so good."

"Does it?" he asks before he can stop himself. "Sorry," he says immediately.

There's a long silence, and he realizes that his hand is still in her pants. What would be more appropriate – sliding it out or just leaving it there? His mind is still turning that over when Leslie reaches up to touch his face.

"Go down on me," she says. "I want you to."

She doesn't need to tell him twice. He kisses her mouth hungrily while his hand pushes down her clothing. The bed shakes a little as she kicks her pants off completely. He takes his good, sweet time as he makes his way down her body.

"When Hillary Clinton was our age, she was a lawyer," he says. He presses his lips to the inside of her elbow. He kisses across to her breast and tugs her nipple between his lips. "Barbara Boxer was a congressional aide." He runs his fingertips over the delicate skin where her leg meets her hip, and she shivers. "Eleanor Roosevelt was a political activist just like you." He slides his fingers between her thighs and traces her lightly while he teases her breasts with his mouth. "Most of those women you saw today, the ones who work with me, they're only aides and assistants. The men, too. They're not leaders. They don't run departments or put on enormous festivals or get elected to any offices. They make copies and return phone calls and run errands."

He moves down her body and lifts her legs over his shoulders. He strokes her hips with his thumbs. When he tastes her, he finds her more than ready for him. He takes his time with her, knowing that it's only jerking off to Skype for a long time after tonight. This is what he has missed: his mouth on Leslie's skin, his senses filled with her – sight, touch, smell, sound, and taste. Sex is fantastic, but this…  _this_  is when he can lose himself in her.

Her legs tremble and fall from his shoulders, one a few minutes before the other. Her knuckles are whiter than the sheets she's gripping so tightly. She's never been shy about rolling her hips against him, impatient, demanding, and he loves that. He holds her, but he's never held her down.

When she comes, she cries out his name and laughs with the release – he loves that, too – and then her body falls into the bed, heavy and weightless at the same time. He crawls up, leaving kisses here and there, and Leslie reaches for him, cupping him through his boxers.

"It's okay," he says, gently moving her hand away.

"I want to." Her face contorts in that funny way that always happens when someone tries to hide a yawn with a closed mouth.

He laughs. "I'd like nothing better, but you, Councilwoman Knope, are a sleepy lady."

Her eyes are already halfway closed, and her smile is slow and lazy. "I  _am_  a sleepy lady."

"And you and Andy have a very early flight to make."

"We do," she agrees. Her eyelids drift down.

"And you have a big career ahead of you. Lots of things to do."

Her chin moves slightly up and down in a kind of nod. "Yep. Lots of things. Lots of  _you_  to do." She giggles and yawns again.

"I certainly hope so," he grins.

When he stretches out beside her and settles her against him, she's already asleep. Already mumbling. Condom Creek? It's probably better not to know.

He tugs her t-shirt back down over her stomach and pulls up the blanket to cover the rest of her. It's too hot for him to be comfortable with a blanket, really, especially with Leslie's body next to his, but he doesn't care. The bed feels empty and cold every other night, so he's going to enjoy the warmth while he's got it.


End file.
